Walking In Darkness
by Tribble Master
Summary: Two months since Sam left for Stanford and Dean's hunting on his own. Dean's hanging on to a hope, by the ropes in a cave. The wendigo is hungry and John's racing against time.
1. Hanging by a Hope

Written for **Lamiajade**, based on her drabble:: Out of the Dark  
Beta'd by the brilliant BAMF,** enviousxbeauty**

**Walking in Darkness**

Chapter One: Hanging by a Hope

Dean was used to waking up in darkness and pain.

Not to long ago he'd woken up in darkness to hear doors slamming and a fight starting. There had been painful heartache as he sat up and watched his only father order his only brother away. It hadn't been long after that Dean had been hunting more on his own. Not that John was ready for Dean to leave, but he needed space. They both did, to try and deal.

This time though, when he woke up, he knew the situation was worse than usual.

The icy cold bit into his bones and the darkness teased him. He tried to move from his cramped position, but he was stuck. Ropes dug into his wrists and left him to dry against the stone wall.

Dean tried to gauge how long he'd been here. With no light, he had to assume it had been a while. There was dripping noise echoing in the cave. He first assumed it was water, but as it trickled down his lanky frame he made a new realization.

He was bleeding from a gash across his torso. His useless arms sagged, as he grunted in pain. His cries echoed and reminded him again he was alone. So he escaped the only way he could: into unconsciousness.

He awoke in memories he'd been trying to avoid. Wondering again if he had pushed Sam away… Shaking it off, he opened his eyes hoping something had changed. Nothing at all was different; he was still trapped in the dark cavern.

Dean noticed it wasn't as cold anymore, but that just meant he had a fever. He swore; this was not the type of change he had wanted.

The pain changed from a dull throbbing in his, potentially, dislocated shoulder to fire across his chest and he started screaming again.

He had to force himself to think about something else besides the pain. Immediately, one thing came to mind. But he couldn't think about that, not that day almost two months ago, not when he lost it all. He tried remembering what he had been hunting.

Bear mauling. Every 15 years, couple of campers had gone missing.

Oh yeah, Wendigo.

And dad was one state over, three days away from their meeting time hunting a black dog. Why did he get the easy cases?

Dean tried again to judge how long he'd been there. The Wendigo would be back soon, and he had to be ready. He didn't think he could be ready to see the gaunt skeletal creature again, with its gruesome features distorted by years of savagery.

If only Dad could finish early, come looking… But Dad still wasn't the same since Sam left. Sam left two months ago and Dean was still sitting in that motel room starring at them, wondering what he'd done wrong. He'd followed every order, done everything asked, and yet…

Here he was alone, strung up like a piece of meat on the rack. He looked up as he heard footsteps approaching. Dean furrowed his brow. If only he could reach his cell phone in his back pocket…If only Dad was there… If only Sam hadn't left him…If only he wasn't completely useless....

"Hey Dean."

"Sam!" he grunted. At the back of his mind a tiny voice a little voice groaned:_ Oh great. You must be hurt worse than you thought._

Sam looked at him with cool calculating eyes. A serene calm floated around him as he stood before Dean smiling the same quirky grin with his hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans. Dean noticed, he was even wearing the same thing he was wearing two moths ago. Sam looked him over, tsking. "What have you gotten yourself into?"

Dean blushed. "I don't know, Sammy…" Then with hesitance he stumbles out, "Did you come back for me?"

Sam shook his head sadly. "No. I just came to say goodbye."

Dean struggled to move more, just an inch more away from the wall. "No wait…Sam…"

"It's not your fault Dean. I just can't live this way." Sam said shaking his head as he faded into the shadows.

Dean started to tremble. His frail frame shook, half out of cold, and half in an attempt to jar his cell phone from its resting place in his back pocket.

He could feel the hard metal lump remain motionless.

Exhaustion came over him again.

o-o-o-o-o-o

"Bobby, look, I just don't know…" John sighed as he continued to pack things away into his duffle.

"He's your son ain't he?" Bobby growled into the phone.

"Well yeah, but he said he wanted to go!" John defended. He looked around the motel room and double checked everything suspicious was gone.

"John, kids say a lot of things, generally it don't amount to shit." Bobby took a deep breath. "You should call him and talk."

"Bobby…"

"For Dean."

John froze mid-stride. "What do you mean?"

Bobby's voice cackled through the line as John moved out of the motel to his truck. "I'm just saying, Dean's just as torn up about this as you are. Family means everything to the boy."

John sat in his truck. "Alright," he conceded, "you might be right."

Bobby adjusted his hat. "Damn right I am."

"Talk to you later Bobby."

"Alright John."

After he hung up John threw the phone down in the empty passenger seat. He leaned his head against the driving wheel and took a deep breath. He just couldn't talk to Sam…not yet… but Dean, ah hell… John picked up his cell phone. He could at least call Dean and check in on him. They hadn't been talking enough lately.

The phone seemed to ring and ring and just when he thought he was going to lose his nerve the other end picked up.

"Dean?" he asked.

There wasn't any response but John could hear noises.

A soft moaning, something like… "..S'mmy… you still there?"

A dripping echoed. Footsteps were in the distance.

Then a crunch.

And a scream.

John recognized that scream.

He threw his car into gear and flew down the road.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"Just a snack…just a snack," the Wendigo kept hissing, "just one tiny bite till dinner…"

The Wendigo busied himself looking around its cave. He couldn't remember which cavern held its meal of the day. The Wendigo chuckled dryly when he found the blonde he'd left out to dry.

He tilted his head and looked at the strange little human, it seemed to be talking to itself. The Wendigo mused over the strange behavior. He chucked a hefty rock at it, which smacked hard against the boy's leg.

Dean yelped and jerked awake to see the Wendigo who smiled at him with cracked and ugly teeth.

"No, no," Dean yelled with false bravado, "Get away from me you damn fugly!"

The Wendigo touched him gently with his claws. "Hmm, oh yes, do I save it for later or now? …Just one morsel!"

Dean kicked out with his good leg catching the Wendigo in off guard. He stumbled backwards and glared at Dean.

"Later." He decided coldly.

As soon as the Wendigo was out of sight, Dean dropped his head. Sam leaned against the cave wall next to him. "Things don't look good, Dean." Sam said causally. "Not at all."

Dean gave his brother a sideways glance. "Sam… are you going to be helpful are not?"

Sam shrugged. "I have a test in the morning, I can't right now."

Dean remembered that excuse. He hated it, because it usually meant Dean had to go dig up graves by himself and pick up Sam's slack. But now… he just took comfort in the voice. "Sam?"

"Yeah, Dean?"

"Don't you think…couldn't you call Dad once in awhile?"

Sam looked at him. "You know your imagining this right? I can't help you."

"You never could."

"What?"

"Go away Sam, I don't need you…" Dean muttered as he started to fade in and out.

Sam shrugged and disappeared.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

John glared at his speed gauge and willed it to go faster. He rolled through another small town with a 35 mile an hour limit in just seconds flat.

Soon enough the state was covered in his tire marks.

When he rolled into the town where he knew Dean was, he quickly located the Impala at the edge of a very gloomy forest. He parked beside the vehicle he trusted to take care of his son and jumped out.

Grabbing anything that could kill, he ran into the forest. The Marine Corp may have trained him to be a tracker, but he'd trained his sons expertly in how to cover up their tracks.

But John Winchester was on a mission and the rules of gravity, physics, and space be damned- he would find his son.

o-o-o-o-o

The gash across Dean's torso was tormenting him. It made every movement of his ten times worse. He listened to his surroundings as he tried to hear for anyone else.

He sat idle with no breath, nor motion…

All he heard was the drip. Drip. Drip.

But then- A roar.

A shot fired.

And a dying screech.

Well, Dean thought sadly, now I really am alone.

Leather clad, gun smoking, and determination written in stone, John Winchester ran into the cavern and momentarily lost his nerve. Pulling himself together, he pulled apart the rope that held his son against the stone wall. "Dean? Hey, hey c'mon son, open your eyes. That's an order…"

Dean fell into his arms like ton of bricks. Looking up at John, Dean managed a weary grin before he mouthed, "Yessir."

Dean closed his eyes. John looked down at him, and noticed how small he was in his arms. He also noticed the swollen arm, way Dean's right leg looked like the shin was fractured, the bleeding cuts, and most of all he noticed how tired Dean was.

He ran out of the cave, and sprinted to his truck.

As he pulled up to the hospital fear twisted and squirmed in his gut. Dean had moved barely on the ride over, but it was enough that John knew he would be okay.

John didn't know what he'd do if he lost one his of sons again.

After placing him in the Emergency Room care he sat in the waiting room, alternating between pacing and sitting still.

He pulled out his phone and looked at it.

He could call Sam… tell him about Dean, apologize, say hello- say, "I miss you…"

But ignorance was bliss, and it was easier to stay in the dark.

o-o-o-o-o-o

Sam unlocked his door and walked into the small apartment. He sighed and threw down his book bag. After spending the last four hours at the library studying, he was tired. He changed his clothes he sat on the edge of his bed. He picked up his phone from the bedside table.

He knew the number his fingers were aching to dial.

But he wasn't ready to talk and say hello, apologize, or even admit how much he missed the Impala's interior filled with music and laughs. Besides, he had the nagging feeling that Dean was to busy for him at the moment. He stood up and turned off his lamp, and let the apartment fall into darkness.

**.:To Be Continued:.**


	2. Just A Dial Tone

**Some people wanted more of this, so here it is.  
Beta'd by my fellow BAMF (srsly, watch out she won't hesitate to slap a bitch): Enviousxbeauty (**who is again, just for the record, completely awesome. her new story is fantastic**)**

**Laimajade-** I hope you like how this story grew! Thanks again for the inspiration!

**Previously on:  
**

_Dean was used to waking up in darkness and pain. When he woke up, he knew the situation was worse than usual. And only two months ago, Sam had left for Stanford._

_John noticed the swollen arm, way Dean's right leg looked like the shin was fractured, the bleeding cuts, and most of all he noticed how tired Dean was._

_Sam knew the number his fingers were aching to dial._

_But ignorance was bliss, and it was easier to stay in the dark._

**Chapter Two:** **Just a dial tone**

Dean woke up under bright lights, completely painless. Except for the dull ache in his heart. He struggled to sit up but a heavy hand pushed him down. Dean heard the gruff order, "Relax."

He fell against the soft bed and sighed. John looked at his son and gave a weary grin. "Hey kiddo…How're you feeling?"

Dean started coughing. He took the cup of water from John. "I'm fine, Dad. How'd your case go?"

John raised his eyebrows. "20 stitches, Dean. A fractured tibia bone. And two dislocated shoulders. Do not bull shit me."

"Dad… look, whatever drugs they got me on, I'm fine. Okay?"

John sighed. "Yeah. Alright."

There was an uncomfortable silence. "How did you find me?"

"Your cell phone." John smiled. "I called you."

"Really? I didn't hear you."

"Yeah, well… I heard you." John looked down. Thinking about how he'd heard Dean talk to Sam.

The nurse walked in with false cheeriness carrying her steps. "Hi there."

John started to speak but Dean cut him off. "When can I get out of here?"

John glared at his son. The nurse looked at the both of them. "We'd like to observe you for another day, just to make sure your stitches don't get contaminated."

Before Dean could open his mouth and wheedle out Winchester charm, John simply said, "That'll be fine."

"Da-a-a-d…" Dean hissed.

The nurse adjusted his drug levels and he fell into a doze listening to the two of them discuss his care.

"Do you want a wheel chair or crutches?" The nurse was asking. "His cast will be on for two months…"

o-o-o-o-o-o

Sam scratched his head and wondered, _When can I get out of here?_ He looked up at the clock and sighed. It had only been five minutes and he was already sick of the swarm of multiple choice problems that confronted him.

He focused harder as he debated the merits of choice A over choice C.

And a voice at the back of his head was nagging; _you should have called him last night. _

He circled C and gritted his teeth, fighting back a migraine.

o-o-o-o-o-o

Twenty four hours, and no infection later the release forms were signed. Dean hated it, but John picked him up gently and set him in the wheel chair and pushed him out to the car. He could only grumble as the medicine wormed it's way through his system.

Dean leaned heavily on his father's shoulders and words. "C'mon, son I'll take you home."

_Home_

What a funny thing for his dad to say, his cloudy thoughts mused; I didn't know we were going to see Sam…

o-o-o-o-o-o

Sam held his breath until the next day when he got his test results back. One hundred percent. A+ Any parent would be proud. Any brother.

Any one, really.

Except Sam. He sat in his dorm room and sighed wearily. He set down the test and looked at his phone. He wanted to hear his brother's voice so bad. But John's was still ringing in his ear- "Stay gone."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

When he woke up at the Singer Salvage Yard, he frowned and couldn't explain why. At the back of his mind he thought sullenly, this isn't_ home. _Despite his confusion he took the crutches and hobbled into the house. Bobby had already set up the living room to accommodate his limited mobility.

John tossed their duffels over his shoulder and ran over to help Dean in. Dean snarled at him. He couldn't resist marine corps torture tactics for long though, and was soon comfortable on the couch.

John pulled the blanket over Dean's shivering body and looked up at Bobby. "Bobby, is it okay …"

"Of course." Bobby smiled sadly. "I understand."

John sighed. "Thanks. I've got another case I want to go check on… I'll be back later."

Bobby leaned against the door frame, watching John make Dean comfortable. "When will Sam be here?"

John froze. His eyes held a deep sadness. "I haven't called Sam yet."

Bobby looked at John. He realized John meant he hadn't called Sam in two months. He sighed. "John Winchester your son is hurt; don't you think his brother would want to know something like that?"

John stepped away from Dean and walked over to Bobby. He shook his head. "I can't … besides, he doesn't want to be part of this family…"

"No, shut the hell up John. It's clear you don't know nothing about family." Bobby glared at John and then reappeared with his shotgun. He cocked the gun and aimed at John. Bobby hissed, "Get out of my house. Go take care of your stupid case and stay gone."

John Winchester frowned. He walked over to where Dean was starting to fall asleep on the couch. John bent over and kissed Dean's forehead. "I'll talk to you later son."

He grabbed his coat and left. Dean fought the heavy pain medication that pinned him down. "Wait…"

The door slammed.

And another part of his family was gone.

He turned to Bobby. Every word on his lips was weighted, nearly impossible to utter a syllable. "Bobby…why'd you…"

Bobby set down the shot gun. "Trust me son, your daddy just needs time to be sensible. As soon as you're on your feet, you can chase him down."

Bobby smiled sadly. Dean nodded. "Okay…"

He fell back into his nightmares.

o-o-o-o-o

Sam sat up with a jolt when his phone rang. He opened it with a groggy hello.

"Sam?"

Sam heard that voice, and he was suddenly awake.

"Dean!" Sam cleared his throat. "Hey, Dean."

Dean smiled. "Sam, it's a good to hear you."

Sam tensed. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"Fine, now. Just resting at Bobby's place. But I just wanted to make sure your okay."

"Yeah, Dean I am. It's really good to hear you, too."

"Sam?" Dean's words were pained and slow.

"Yeah?" Sam leaned into the receiver, willing every detail he could imagine to come to life.

"Promise me you'll call more often." Dean said with tears forming in his eyes.

"Okay, Dean. I will." Sam took a deep breath before he spoke again. "Hey, is dad there?"

Dean frowned. Sam could hear it, the brow wrinkling as Dean determined how to delicately tell him something. "No," Dean gave a bone weary sigh, "he's not here."

"Oh…well, I got an A+ on my test today."

"Sammy," Dean smiled, "I'm so happy."

And that was all Sam needed to hear.

o-o-o-o-o

Almost one small town away, John was driving onto the next case. His son was far behind him now, broken and lying on a couch. He was so close and yet so far... John pulled his truck over. He couldn't focus on the road. He couldn't focus on anything except what Bobby had said. He pulled out his phone and dialed. The phone line was busy and went to voicemail. He cursed and turned his phone off. He watched the screen fade into darkness.

_Sorry, Sammy. I'll have to make up to you some day. _

He kept driving down the rainy road.

o-o-o-o-o

After Dean hung up with Sam, he smiled. Even with his leg like lead, and his torso aching, he felt better than he had in a long time.

**.:The End:.**


End file.
